WINE AND GATES
Poor Falls A Start, A Finish, Etc. Time Yearns
sand in my shoe, the flavor of domains
the kinder of chance in my hand, to know a glare of opportunity
asking winds at my ear, are we hope in a thought brazen
lucre from an ages history, of a heathen for the question of duty
may, in the still of the seen
with but a keeping eye, we know the seclusion of worth
to remember the cold traces of impression, of a salt in my nose keen
everywhere, the sensation of seasons worth my time, benign by girth
rhyme with me a little further, if the sanity of a loved hand
in truth to be, the cares of a new star, to seek a life in the youth
of with and the bliss of consciences greater by the shape of the land
in miracles of sight beyond the joy of song, here is a plain day over couth
shame for a sand, eats its weight in gold
fires of frustration with a name to prove, since with amends in now, to follow identity
tendered clouds of support, find the gesture of charisma to hold
temperance for an ailing message, is a walk with a justice of an egg's integrity?
shadows?
pie for a silly need of angels and the baring of a new dread in the same
weakened friendships of supremacy show the obvious, we are the chosen lover's
like honor in the stir of night, the sparse and the tart, to win a bird of shame?
sweet to taste, but death amid your laughter as humble as all's prayer
turns of suggestion and the argument of sign's of heed, in the blessing of eaves
we are the risen add of common sense, for the risks of kingdom's of care
this holiday is for a deed never seen, but the limitation of a world that heaven's
your psychosis, your future in the hands of another, your purpose beyond a stare
of virtue, in the myriad fangs and songs of utter pence, that came for a landfall
of choice and the voice of succor for the few, if not the any of a soul to fare
upon the wake of a neglects boat, the till with the moment, the still with a jewel of call
time, to live in the arms of others also
if you ever share the disdain, if not the reign of cope, in your view
the nature of silence for the reason of chance, is but a sighing stone of those
per se or elan to shall, in these words of asks, fashions and the tradition of passion's should
the kinder of chance in my hand, to know a glare of opportunity
asking winds at my ear, are we hope in a thought brazen
lucre from an ages history, of a heathen for the question of duty
may, in the still of the seen
with but a keeping eye, we know the seclusion of worth
to remember the cold traces of impression, of a salt in my nose keen
everywhere, the sensation of seasons worth my time, benign by girth
rhyme with me a little further, if the sanity of a loved hand
in truth to be, the cares of a new star, to seek a life in the youth
of with and the bliss of consciences greater by the shape of the land
in miracles of sight beyond the joy of song, here is a plain day over couth
shame for a sand, eats its weight in gold
fires of frustration with a name to prove, since with amends in now, to follow identity
tendered clouds of support, find the gesture of charisma to hold
temperance for an ailing message, is a walk with a justice of an egg's integrity?
shadows?
pie for a silly need of angels and the baring of a new dread in the same
weakened friendships of supremacy show the obvious, we are the chosen lover's
like honor in the stir of night, the sparse and the tart, to win a bird of shame?
sweet to taste, but death amid your laughter as humble as all's prayer
turns of suggestion and the argument of sign's of heed, in the blessing of eaves
we are the risen add of common sense, for the risks of kingdom's of care
this holiday is for a deed never seen, but the limitation of a world that heaven's
your psychosis, your future in the hands of another, your purpose beyond a stare
of virtue, in the myriad fangs and songs of utter pence, that came for a landfall
of choice and the voice of succor for the few, if not the any of a soul to fare
upon the wake of a neglects boat, the till with the moment, the still with a jewel of call
time, to live in the arms of others also
if you ever share the disdain, if not the reign of cope, in your view
the nature of silence for the reason of chance, is but a sighing stone of those
per se or elan to shall, in these words of asks, fashions and the tradition of passion's should
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Poor Falls A Start, A Finish, Etc. Time Yearns
Poor Falls A Start, A Finish, Etc. Time Yearns
